Tumgik
Photo
Tumblr media
’ Climbing the Ladder ‘
Collage on paper
© Sammy Slabbinck 2013
porfolio / society6.com / facebook / flickr / shop
6K notes · View notes
Text
acosmist - one who believes that nothing exists paralian - a person who lives near the sea aureate - pertaining to the fancy or flowery words used by poets  dwale - to wander about deliriously sabaism - the worship of stars dysphoria - an unwell feeling aubade - a love song which is sung at dawn eumoirous - happiness due to being honest and wholesome mimp - to speak in a prissy manner, usually with pursed lips
RARE WORDS
249K notes · View notes
Text
((assuming I can wrestle my muse out of his laziness, I'm back.  My browsers crashed and I lost all my logins.  Oops.))
0 notes
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Mieke Geenen: BODYSCOPES digital mandalas of human tissue (click on the images for info)
2K notes · View notes
Text
((why is my dash literally showing nothing
bad dash
bad))
0 notes
Text
Apologies for continued extended absences.  Arguments with landlord resulted in removal of Internet access.
0 notes
Text
((whoooops.  I've been having a neglectablog))
0 notes
Text
Never trust an atom they make up everything
90K notes · View notes
Video
youtube
afraidofme:
What a beautiful video of epee fencers in slow motion. 
30 notes · View notes
Text
My head is buzzing like a swarm of angry bees.
Can't think--thinking too much. Too long without a case. Have to do something. Anything. Try to avoid the illegal options. Do something, do nothing, nothing to do, nowhere to go. Bored. Dangerously bored. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
0 notes
Text
the violinist.
Fingers press down on the steel strings of a violin as a hand moves majestically back and forth, dragging the bow this way and that; the musician’s eyes close as he produces the music his soul holds within. Did you ever stop to partake of the beauty he held inside? His music fading out as you placed him at the back of the room, venturing further from the melodies he poured out in your honor, you never took the time to watch him play. Interested in a crowd you could understand, you abandoned his bittersweet confessions.. confessions you could never comprehend. The music you were drawn to played what you wanted to hear exactly when you wanted to hear it - to you, it was perfect in every single way.. but the boy left behind kept playing the tune he had played since it all began. As the times became harder, so did his music.. his arm moving profoundly, pushing down on the strings and jerking back faster than ever before. You could see the passion in his eyes, the anger and the frustration as you became attracted to something else. If only you could see what he produced for you, what he pulled forth from the depths of his heart, and how, what you listened to now, could never compare. Did you ever stop to realize his music was irreplaceable, unlike the rest? If you did, you realized it too late. For so long, she blocked him out, she sought out the emotionless tunes that never struck a nerve.. the music that was put together perfectly, never causing her blood to surge heatedly. His violin produced the tones and the songs she never cared to hear; the melodies contradicted her, they questioned her, and they stunted her with the truth. When he dared to be different, when he expressed his deepest, darkest emotions - she turned her back for something more compliant with her thoughts. The lights dim on his slim figure as the night takes over - he can no longer see you through the darkness, but he faithfully plays on until his hands are worn to the bone. Hair messy, his suit covered with cobwebs and dust, the mask he wears is beginning to crack.. the corner of nowhere is decaying the soul you tossed away. Did you ever stop to think that he only played for you? That, once you walked away, you would realize just how pure his music was? As his strength begins to fade, his arms become wearied by the effort he’s wasted on thin air. There was always something you wanted that he could never give, somehow hitting the notes that weren’t to your liking. Did you give him any credit for the hours he spent laboring on perfecting himself for you? He tried to be himself, tried to show you who he was through the strings of his violin, but somehow it was never good enough.. not even the effort itself granted him a second of your undivided attention. Her ears prick as the background noise decreases, a trembling chord of the violin fades out as his song comes to an end. For a moment she begins to wonder, but the crowd that can please her, makes him seem worthless in comparison. She’ll forget about the boy she left in the dark, she’ll replace his unharnessed expressions of honesty and love.. and when the day comes that she misses the familiar sound of his music playing solely for her, she’ll return to find naught but a shattered violin upon the floor, covered in the cobwebs of his forsaken existence. She reaches for the mask he left upon the shards, placing it to her face. Everything she never realized when he was there, she now sees from his perspective.. and now that she knows how he felt, she’ll regret losing him forever. He may not have been the song you wished to hear, but he only played for you.. he played loyally and with purity of heart and soul. Every time he pulled the bow back and forth across the strings, he put himself into the movements, into the way he could make the violin sing the words he could never say. Even when you walked away, he continued to play in the hopes you’d succumb to his alluring way of making love through the music he created - but you ignored him until it was too late. And now, as you stand there looking through the mask he hid himself behind, you realize that he was everything you ever wanted.. and he had everything you would ever desire. Perhaps, one day, you’ll realize, when every other song comes to an end, that he would have merrily played on for you.. if you’d just listened. - Mr. Depravity. I wrote this piece back in 2010, and still.. I find it capable of capturing a part of who I am.
31 notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media
shit ruins my life.
11 notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media
one photo down… 49 to go…
16 notes · View notes
Text
“You’re so..” finish it in my ask.
385K notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media
Bee & Flower no.2 by alankin on Flickr.
5 notes · View notes
Quote
In Celtic mythology, the bee is a messenger between our world and the spirit realm. Bees are also associated with wisdom.
(via kerfufflish)
4 notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media
Ultimate nerd #chemistry #instachem #chemistryisballz (Taken with Instagram)
10 notes · View notes